Tuesday, April 1, 2008


Went to bed. Couldn't sleep for thinking about how much the last poem sucked. Got drowsy. Mind wandered. Reeled off some lines, liked them, decided to throw them out here.

April fish
curls on the plate,
bares its teeth.

Slippery sucker. Revolves, evolves,
pops legs and scurries
across the spoons, down the tablecloth,

back to the March marsh.

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